The 42nd Hunger Games You Be the Gamemaker
by North American Scum
Summary: Reaping time has come again in Panem, but this time there's a twist- you create the tributes, you contribute the ideas and you decide who lives and dies. May the odds be ever in your favor! The tributes are in and the games have begun!
1. The Tributes

And here's the final list of tributes that'll be in the story. Mucho thanks to anyone who submitted one!

**Jesse Reed**, 14 M (District 3)

**Jareth Lucidi**, 12 M (District 8)

**Teig Sony**, 18 M (2)

**Skip Trans,** 12 M (10)

**Erik Greenwalsh**, 17 M (9)

**Alex Hawes**, 16 M (7)

**Ash Ricardi**, 16 M (1)

**Darren Dikein**, 17 M (4)

**Xavier Storm**, 18 M (11)

**Jayden Clearwater**, 13 (5)

**Carsyn Tayeh**, 17 (12)

**Lawrence Garza**, 15 M (6)

**Flannery Vang, **13 F (3)

**Kitiana Le'Roy, **17 F (10)

**Delilah Emerson **17 F (6)

**Rosabelle Storm**, 13 F (12)

**Taryn Trinsmay,** 15, F (8)

**Wesley Aller**, 16 F (11)

**Naomi Feilds**, 17 F (1)

**Patricia Star**, 17 F (2)

**Luna Night, **17 F (9)

**Akaterina Hail**, 12 F (4)

**Kaylee Darknight**, 16 F (7)

**Kourtney Baffa**, 14 F (5)

PS: TheOnlyException1234, I changed one of your character's names. I hope you don't mind, but PM me if you do.


	2. District 1 Reaping

**A/N:** The tributes are in, so now it's time for the fun to begin. I love everyone who submitted a character, so I apologize in advance for any liberties I may take with yours. Oh, and feedback is strongly encouraged.

**Disclaimer:** The Hunger Games belongs to the indomitably fierce Suzanne Collins and the characters to their equally fierce creators.

Ash Ricardi always took a moment to stay in his bed, silent and reflective, when he first awoke. He normally used the time for a moment of relaxation before the bustle of the day began; to plan his activities, to remember yesterday and, of course, to get his awesome hair in order. He began to comb his fingers idly through the locks that swept across his forehead while considering where to go get lunch that afternoon, but he was quickly snapped out of his reverie by a loud crash from downstairs.

Eager to find the source of the noise, he immediately cast aside all other thoughts and went bounding down the steps. He took them two at a time, which caused him to stumble at the landing, and he landed in the kitchen in an ungraceful heap. Slightly disoriented he looked up only to meet the stern eye of his grandmother.

Over the years he'd lived with his grandmother, he'd learned a great deal about her facial expressions. For example, a wide tight-lipped smile with eyes crinkled at the corners meant that he'd done something right- cue the back patting and long hugs. And this face, he had learned, with her jaw set harshly and her wild eyes, indicated that he had a very pissed off grandmother and it was in his best interest to start running.

Before he could even pick himself up off the floor, his grandmother began to yell. "Ashlyn Gilles Ricardi, do you," a sudden pause, as she sighed deeply, smoothed back the hairs that were escaping from her usually tidy, steel coloured bun, and lowered her voice "Do you have _any_ idea what day it is?"

Ash faltered. He had honestly no idea what day it was. "Um... Tuesday?"

His grandmother clapped a hand to her face. "It's the day! The day of the reaping!" Ash's grandmother had been around for the first reaping (though she was only a girl) and they seemed to particularly upset her. Though the fact that he would be entering that year may have exacerbated the effect, he mused.

He got to his feet and pulled his grandmother into a tight hug. "I'm sorry granny. I try not to forget these things."

"I know dear boy, I know," she said quietly, releasing him. Momentarily, she looked close to tears and older than he'd ever seen her, but as if slipping on a mask, she returned to her usual stern expression. "Before you leave, I need you to pick these up." She gestured toward a pile of pots that had crashed down from a shelf above. Ash quickly complied. "Now put on your suit and say goodbye to your father."

Ash went upstairs to retrieve his suit from the bottom of his closet. He had been meant to hang the suit up, and it looked small and sad crumpled, with its creases ruined and its glossy sheen looking matte. As he dressed in it, he thought of what it would be like to be a tribute.

This year it had been decided that he would volunteer regardless of whose name was drawn. The plan had begun years ago as idle speculation between his father's coworkers, but when father stepped in and volunteered his own son as the Guinea pig, the "career tribute" things had taken off. So Ash had been trained for years in the art of survival, at all the things his father deemed useful, by the best teachers available. Though he'd been concerned about the Capitol's reaction to this, they seemed to turn a blind eye.

Ash smoothed out the creased on his vest and crossed the hall to tentatively knock on the door of his father's study. The door swung open to reveal his father's imposing figure taking up most of the doorway. "Look son, I know what you're going to say," Ash was a bit taken aback at these words, as even he hadn't been sure what he was going to say. "But I just want you to know that I know you'll do me and the district proud." Ash knew that due to his father's job as one of district 1's top entrepreneurs, doing him proud and doing the district proud were one and the same.

"I will dad. I will," Ash vowed, going in to hug his father, only to have him step back and offer a handshake instead. Ash was surprised by this action, even more so when he realized that his father had pressed a small bit of jade into his hand. "What," Ash began.

"Your token," his father said, stroking his beard moodily as he disappeared into his office once more. Ash had no time to dwell on the interaction. He stuffed the jade into his pocket and rushed to the district square.

The Square was located in the center of town- by far the nicest part. It was surrounded by houses with beautiful facades, intricately molded government offices and high end shops for the district's more affluent residents. It was Ash's favourite part of town.

There he met up with his best friend, Kei. He always felt at ease with Kei, though they were exact opposites. While Ash was stocky and solidly built, Kei was skinny as a rail. Ash was dreamy and forgetful but Kei had a razor sharp memory. And best of all, Kei preferred to talk and Ash loved to listen. As the pair waited for the reaping to begin they talked as if this were just another day, not the day that one of them would go off to the hunger games, for better or for worse (though Ash could barely consider the latter).

As the annual lecture on the history of Panem began, Ash let his mind wander. He looked toward the stores, and then realized sadly that he would be at the games when the new shipment of music chips came in. He stared at Kei's dark, freshly shaved scalp and was momentarily fascinated by the way it glimmered in the sunlight. He stared at Wanda Peterson so hard that he barely noticed the blonde, waif-like woman who walked onto the stage and began to speak.

"We'll begin with the guys," the blonde drawled, seeming almost aggressively bored. Ash briefly though her thick dark makeup and fashionably shapeless grey dress made her look like a raccoon. She dug through the names in the jar for an agonizingly long time. "And our district one tribute is Ash Ricardi." She paused for applause.

It seemed like he wouldn't be volunteering this year.

Naomi Fields was ready. She was ready to wake up (she'd awoken with a start at exactly 8:25). She was ready to attend the reaping (she'd laid out her clothes the night before). She was ready to go to the hunger games and even more ready to win them. Considering the training she'd been put through, it was safe to say she'd been born ready.

She moved through her morning routine almost mechanically. Shower. Brush teeth. Brush hair. Put on makeup. Get dressed. She was preoccupied with other things.

For one, though she'd been preparing for this all her life, it was just now sinking in that she'd have to actually do it. She wouldn't be flinging that spear through a straw filled dummy through weeks from now, but through the heart of some lumberjack from district seven. Or a math nerd from ten. Or through Ash, her fellow trainee from district one. Nah, not the last one, she smirked slightly. She didn't think he'd need her help to get himself killed.

Her head cleared, she was ready to go through her day. She would eat a nice breakfast, then say goodbye to her mother (she'd miss her), her father (she'd miss him more) and her sister (good riddance). Then she'd say goodbye to her friends. Well, friend. James was really the only person she'd ever felt close to and the only person besides her family she had any interest in saying goodbye to.

Just as she was about to head into the kitchen, her dad came running into the room. "Naomi! Today's the day!" She tried to respond, but her father cut her off. "We have to do some last minute training! I'll wait outside for you to get ready." He disappeared from the room.

She sighed inwardly, knowing that it would be no good to protest. Her father was a determined man, one of wild energy and passion, especially when it came to her training. Today he looked even more unhinged than usual, with stubble covering his jaw and his hair in disarray. He was already wearing the dingy clothes he would train with her in.

Wearily, she removed the plain black sheath she would wear for the reaping and put on her athletic gear, as her fashionably inclined sister called it. She made her way into the hallway, only to find that her father had already disappeared out the back door and into their yard, otherwise known as the "practice arena"

"Ok dad, let's do this!" Even when she wasn't particularly looking forward for practice she was always up for a challenge.

"Alright, we're on then," her dad said, a smile spreading across his face. The only time Naomi's dad really smiled like that was when they were doing training. To her, it seemed like he was only alive when they were practicing things that would risk her death. Though she had to admit that she was much the same.

Time flew as the two practiced a litany of what she had been taught over the years. Naomi was in her element and she loved the feeling. It seemed to her that she was meant to shoot at things and run and just_ survive_; not live some empty life making useless things for the empty headed people of the Capital. By the time they were done, Naomi was tired and disheveled, but didn't have the time to go through the process of getting ready, so she just threw her sweaty hair into a ponytail, gave her dad a quick hug and went to put her dress back on.

She was just about to run off to the town square when she realized she hadn't said a word to her mother and sister. Honestly, she couldn't care less whether she saw them again, but she felt obligated. Besides, she thought wickedly, it might make her less hesitant to go.

Charlotte and her mother were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. It was at times like these that Naomi was struck by how much the two looked alike- sitting the way they were know, each looked like a perfect mirror image of the other. Naomi had gotten her father's wild blonde hair and chocolate eyes, which made her feel out of place next to their deep brown hair and china blue eyes.

First she hugged her mother, close enough to get a lungful of her heady floral perfume. "I know you'll do well. Make sure you get those kids from the other districts," she said, in a stiff voice. Naomi had to suppress a chuckle. It was so like her mother to make such a dark thing sound routine; using "get" instead of "kill".

Then it was time to hug Charlotte, which she was almost dreading more than going to the games. Naomi made no move to hug her, but Charlotte surprised her by quickly pulling her into a tight hug. "Look, you're an annoying little punk, but I really want you to do well." That was one of the nicest things she'd ever said to her.

As she drew back she got a good look at her sister's face, which made her feel suddenly self-conscious about her disheveled appearance. Naomi mumbled some awkward goodbyes and bolted out the door only to run into her best friend, James.

"Hey. Big day today, I guess." James didn't bother to ask how she was doing. He already knew.

The two fell into step next to each other, silently. That was what Naomi loved the most about James: they could say everything they needed to without words. As they walked she looked around at the other people. Most looked stricken by the upcoming reaping, but others were excited. One boy she passed simply looked completely spaced out, which made her laugh a little.

Soon, it was time to take their seats for the reaping, her reaping. As the history of Panem was read aloud, she and James amused themselves by making faces at each other. They'd both head this every year of their lives, so their interest level was low to say the least.

By the time a disconcertingly thin woman got out the jar full of names, Naomi was practically jumping out of her seat to volunteer. The woman slowly unfurled the piece of paper to read the name in a bored monotone. "And the lucky lady is Teri Watts." Teri was a girl who went to Naomi's school, a small and deeply stupid girl who wouldn't have lasted a minute in the hunger games. This only made Naomi more eager to volunteer.

Her hand shot up. "I volunteer!"


	3. District 2 Reaping

**A/N: **I'm trying to keep some variety with how the reapings go, so I hope these chapters don't get too boring. And come on people, reviews are like oxygen to me.

**District Two**

The first thing Teig Sony did when he awoke was touch the engagement ring that hung on a cord around his neck. He did this sometimes; running his fingers over the ridges, the diamond from District One. It helped him remember the days when the ring meant something. Today he'd decided it would be extra important to remember the things he liked about life in the district, being that it was the day of the reaping. He knew never to take what he had for granted, especially when it could all be taken away by the Capital, just because they felt like it.

Teig was hesitant to get out of bed. The blankets around him formed a cocoon that seemed far to comforting to leave. Maybe permanently, if his plan to volunteer went off. He hadn't told anyone about this of course (he knew they would object), but he knew he could survive the games. Even if he didn't, he'd already lost Joy, which was really everything he had to loose.

He didn't have time to dwell on this because his sister burst into his room and launched herself onto his bed. Just looking at Mica made him feel different. He was the first to admit that he normally didn't care about people, but seeing his sister- so innocent, unaware of the Capital or the hunger games- filled him with a sense of good-will. She was one of the few people who didn't ever bother him.

"Mom wants to know if you're dressed yet," Mica said. Teig noticed that she was missing a tooth, which filled him with an inexplicable sense of melancholy.

"I'd say not, kid, but I will be in a minute if you get out." He swatted at her playfully until she ran down stairs, giggling madly.

The first thing he did when she left was take his pills. One red, to make him more attentive. One blue to quench his anger. One green for extra protein. Being in the medical district, there seemed to be a pill for everything, though Teig found himself doubting their functionality.

He dressed himself in an appropriate outfit, and then topped it off with an inappropriate black leather jacket that made his pale hair look almost luminescent. A girlfriend had given it to him, and though he'd eventually found her almost unbearable, he liked the jacket. By the time he was ready he could hear his whole family together downstairs, Mica talking loudly about some knew gamecard she had bought.

When he arrived in the sitting room, his parents were sitting on the couch intertwined. He liked to see them like this because it made it clear how he was the perfect blend of the two of them. His eyes were a combination of his dad's deep brown eyes and his mother's green. His nose had the shape of his mother's, but the somewhat generous size of his dad's. And, though Teig didn't realize, he had a combination of his father's sharp wit and his mother's surgical preciseness.

"Teig," they began in unison. His father stopped with a laugh and gestured for his wife to continue. "Ladies first."

"Teig, we know what you're planning on doing today," she leaned forward conspiratorially and his heart sank in dread "but we know we can't stop you." He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Look son, we're there for you," his dad said, looking serious for once. "We'll come with you to the reaping and sit by you while you volunteer."

"We're here for you," Mica repeated sagely as she nodded, though she must have been unaware of the situation's gravity.

Teig more emotional than he was accustomed to at the show of support, but he managed to get a hold of himself. He did mean to say something that would show how much it mattered to him, but he could only choke out "That would be good." He had planned to go to the reaping with a group of friends, but he figured they would understand. Or they wouldn't. Whatever.

The Sony family made their way through the streets to the stage where the reaping would take place, Mica between their parents and Teig several paces ahead. On the way he caught sight of a friend being "spoken to" by a peacekeeper, which sent a jolt of worry through him. His friends were one of the few things Teig cared about, one of the few good things about school (except for learning languages) and he didn't trust the peacekeepers with them. Especially since the thing with Joy. However, his friend caught Teig's eye to reassure him, and he continued on unabated.

By the time they arrived at the amphitheater where the reaping would take place, there were already hordes of people crowding the floor. It was rare to see the entirety of District Two like this, and he was momentarily awed by the sheer size of the gathering. His awe quickly turned to boredom as the lecture on Panem's history began. It might be interesting to learn about history, but not the Capital's warped, self-serving version of events.

A disconcertingly plastic looking man with hair the exact colour of the midnight sky took to the stage to read off the names. As he rifled through the jar he made an expression that Teig supposed must have been a grin. The man pulled out a slip of paper, but Teig didn't even give him time to read the name.

"I want to Volunteer. I'll be the tribute!"

Beside him, Mica burst into tears

...

When Patricia Star awoke, she was surrounded by her friends. She was deeply thankful for this, because she wasn't sure she could get through the day without them. After all, this was the last day she'd get to see them (their last teary goodbye notwithstanding, but she preferred not to think about that). Today she would volunteer for the hunger games, like she was always mean to and her life as a nice, normal teenage girl would be over. She'd completely banned any talk of the games last night in the hopes that she could just enjoy a sleepover with her three best friends.

Still, thoughts of the coming reaping crept in while she tried to enjoy herself. She thought of the interviews she would have to go through and what she would say while Dionne painted her toes. She thought of her talent being judged by the gamemakers while she and Eedie flipped through a magazine. She shuddered at the thought of having to fight some little twelve year old while she listened to Regina gossip about boys.

From the angle at which the sun shone through her curtains over the bodies of her sleeping friends, Patricia judged it to be nearly noon. That was way too late.

"Hey," she nudged Eedie. "Wake up." Louder this time "**Wake up**_!"_

Eedie awoke with a deep groan. "_Moooooom_. I don't wanna." Patricia giggled, but she had to admit that it was strangely appropriate. Eedie looked several years younger than the other three, and acted it too. Sometimes Patricia did feel like her mother, a not unwelcome feeling.

"You should listen to your mother, Eedie," said Dionne, who was now very much awake. All three laughed at this, even the Eedie who was still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

The three sat in silence, save for the steady hum of Regina's snores. Dionne caught the other two's eyes and they immediately knew what she was thinking. Eedie reached out to stop her half-heartedly, but Patricia knew it was no good. Dionne launched herself across the room onto Regina, who was still sleeping peacefully.

"It's time to get up," Dionne yelled in a voice so loud it would probably wake up anyone sleeping in a mile radius.

This caused Regina to fall off the bed with a sharp yelp. Despite her fall, it took Regina barely a second to come to her senses and grab a pillow to attack Dionne with. Dionne screamed theatrically at Regina's offense as Eedie looked on wide-eyed and Patricia merely smiled. Come to think of it, Regina probably would do quite well in the hunger games herself. That was part of why Patricia would be volunteering- she couldn't imagine being forced to watch one of the people she knew (god forbid one of her best friends) go through that ordeal. No, it had to be her.

Growing tired of the demonstration, Patricia walked across the room to pull the still fighting Dionne and Regina off one another. "Alright guys, time for us to get dressed like grownups." She punctuated her words with a loud clap. "Today's a big day!"

"Ugh don't remind me," Eedie shuddered from her position cross legged at the foot of the bed.

"God, what if one of us gets picked," said Regina, picking at a loose thread on the comforter. Patricia hadn't told her friends about her plans. She had meant to, but it just had never felt like the right time to say it.

"Don't worry. You know the capital rigs that shit and they'll want someone quote unquote more interesting," said Dionne with a scowl.

Patricia made her way over to the wardrobe to put on the dress she planned to wear. It was an bright green and purple floral number that she had brought for a party that she ended up never attending. Hey, Patricia had figured, if she was going to throw herself to the lions she might as well look cute doing it. She brushed her hair, even though it already lay neatly and did her makeup. She didn't even bother to take off her mascara and eyeliner from last night, figuring it looked good enough.

While she sat in front of her vanity the others busied themselves with their own outfits. Eedie was helping Dionne squeeze into a skintight red dress while Regina brushed her hair. That was what she would miss most, Patricia decided: the way they acted with each other, the way they helped each other out. She prayed she would win the games just so that she could come back and see them again. She remained lost in her thoughts as her friends led her downstairs

Her friends waited in the foyer, unusually quiet while she went to say goodbye to her parents. She'd already planned her words so as not to make a big fanfare. Remember, her parents simply thought she would be attending the reaping, not the hunger games, and she was planning to keep it that her surprise, the living room was empty, as were the kitchen and her parents' room. They must have left without her.

Patricia was hurt, if not surprised, by this turn of events. Her parents always seemed closer to each other than to her (even to the point that they began to look alike) and it wasn't unusual for them to go off some place without telling her, but it still messed up the perfect vision she had of the day. She hated when her plans were messed up, even in the slightest way, and this qualified as a pretty damn big plan.

Trying to shake her dissatisfaction, Patricia walked out the door and down the street with her friends, giggling along with them. Yeah, she reassured herself, everything would go alright now.

They stood together in the amphitheater, pressed close together by the teeming crowds. Dionne kept up a steady monologue of rude jokes and comments about their fellow audience members' appearances, even though the lecture that always preceded the reaping. Her eyes appeared to light up at the sight of the man who would read the names. "Oh my god, he looks like a five year old sculpted him out of candle wax. And then did his hair with those little rounded scissors they use in school. Ew."

Regina gave a hearty snort at this and Eedie covered her mouth, tittering, but Patricia ignored her. She was too focused on what she was going to do next.

"And the girl is..." he paused before reading the name for a moment that Patricia was quick to take advantage of.

"I want to be the tribute! Not whoever's on that paper!"

The midnight-haired man seemed taken aback. "Well, I guess this lovely lady is our tribute."

Patricia caught sight of her friends' stunned faces, but she had to look away to keep from crying.


	4. District 3 Reaping

**A/N: **Sorry that it's been way too long since I've last updated, but it was a crazy week. I'm terribly nervous that I'm not doing justice to everyone's characters, so feel free to speak up about that any time. Also, I think I'm going to make these reaping chapters a bit shorter because I feel like they're dragging. What do you guys think?

…

Jesse Reed had already been awake for hours when the district began to come alive. This wasn't unusual. He loved the feeling of being awake while others were asleep. From where he was seated on his roof he could see the city, his blue eyes piercing through the dawn's dusty light. It made him feel like a threat, like he had some kind of intrinsic advantage over those who were unmoving and unaware. It made him feel powerful. Admittedly, Jesse loved power.

That was why he was so excited for today. If he (if, there was that ever present _if_ that he hated so much) was reaped today, then that would be perfect. But hey, if he didn't, he'd at least get to see some other poor schmuck get reaped and that would be almost as good. It might even be some little twelve year old who didn't know his elbow from his ass, let alone how to survive in the arena. He smirked at the thought. Last year his "best friend" had been picked and it surprised even him how much he didn't care. Someone had to go and it wasn't like he couldn't find a new person to hang around with after school.

The whir and buzz of the factories would have been starting on any normal day, but they were closed for the reaping. Which meant that his family would all be home; all seven of them in that way-too-small house. He'd have to start preparing himself for that now.

"Jesse! **Jesse! Jeeeeeseee!"** That was his sister, calling him from the ground. She was still in her nightgown and socks, yelling with her hands cupped around her mouth. It would almost be cute if the pitch of her voice wasn't piercing through his eardrums directly into his brain.

"Jesus, I can hear you Claire. I'm not deaf. Well I might be now." Jesse began to ease himself back though his bedroom window. It wouldn't do to hurt himself today; especially doing something stupid like climbing through his freaking window.

His room was perfectly cleaned and organized, with his books meticulously organized on their shelves and his clothes hung in the closet (sorted by color _and_ style). The workbench nestled in the corner was the same, with his tools lain out neatly and his current project squarely tucked away. Yeah, he had plans for that latest project.

It wasn't hard for Jesse to pick out a reaping outfit. He already knew what he was looking for: something that made him look sophisticated, but dangerous, like some kind of District One crime boss. Well, maybe like that crime boss' son. He could still hear Claire moving about in the hallway, talking to his younger brother, so he figured it was time to go downstairs for some family bonding. Lord, but was that child loud.

By the time he left his room, Claire was nowhere to be found. He checked in the bathroom (sometimes she liked to hang out in there, for some godforsaken reason), only to conclude that she must have already been downstairs.

Sure enough, he was right. His whole family was gathered around the table, looking perfect as usual, right down to his father's Caesar Flickerman hair. They were all dressed with a certain degree of coordination, in shades of grey and blue. Even Claire had put on a dress and covered the scrapes on her knees with flesh colored bandages. She looked absolutely miserable.

"Ok, everybody ready to head out," said Jesse's father in a tone that made it clear that he wasn't asking. Jesse knew that although his father was an engineer, that wasn't where his strength lied. He was a politician through and through. His mother's subtle sneer at her husband made it clear she wasn't ready to play that politician's dutiful wife.

The family piled into their car, an old natural gas model painted a sickly shade of mint. It wasn't much to look at, but it was functional, and the family took it to the place that the reaping would take place every year. Jesse found himself squeezed between Claire and Danny in an effort to stop their bickering, though his presence didn't dissuade them in the slightest. Claire still reached behind him to prod at her brother, and Danny still made faces at her, wrinkling his freckled nose and screwing up his eyes through his coke-bottle thick glasses. That kid was a hopeless dork.

When the family found their seats the two were separated even more by Jesse and his parents. This seemed to quiet them a bit, but even if they hadn't, Jesse probably wouldn't have noticed. He was far too excited by the prospect of the upcoming reaping, almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He didn't even see his friends waving at him, including his girlfriend of the week.

Jesse, unlike most kids, listened to the history of Panem. He thought it was a grand story and that those idiots in District Thirteen probably got what they deserved. If they couldn't win a rebellion, they shouldn't have started one in the first place.

"So we'll start with the fellas," came an unusually soft voice from the stage.

He was listening so intently that he could hear the rustle of the slips of paper as an older lady rifled through they to pick a name. Actually, he the lady looked like she was probably too old to be doing this and looked surprisingly dowdy with her baby pink suit and tightly curled hair. Maybe she'd been moved from District One or Two. Yeah, that must have been it.

Jesse was basking in the glory of his deductive reasoning when he heard his name. "Looks like this year it'll be Jesse Reed!"

…

Flannery Vang didn't _want _to be excited, you had to understand. She had no desire for her heart to flutter and her stomach to clench every time she thought of the day's reaping. Especially when she thought of one of her friends, or god-forbid her brother, Declan, having to go off to the arena and kill all those other kids. So she had come to the conclusion that the only reason she was excited was because once it happened she wouldn't have to even think about it for another year. That, and she would get to wear her new dress.

Despite that, she was still in her pajamas. Though she'd be up for at least an hour and she'd even gone downstairs to eat breakfast, she couldn't bring herself to put the dress on. She looked across the room, into her mirror and she squint a little since she wasn't wearing her glasses. Even to her own eyes, she seemed younger than her thirteen years. She was just a few inches too short to be a teenager, her cheeks just a little too round and rosy. It made her cringe a little and motivated her to get up and put the dress on.

She tried to tell herself otherwise, but the dress didn't make her look any older either. Makeup seemed powerless against her youthful looks as well, though that may have been because she had a somewhat clumsy hand with it. With a sigh, she gave up. So what if she looked young; it didn't really matter anyway. Just as she was about to rush out of the room, she remembered her glasses. It would be a very interesting day without those.

She raced downstairs and into the front parlor, only to run directly into a brick wall. Actually, it was her brother's best friend, Ness. Ness had been friends with her brother as far back as she could remember, and she still hadn't learned his first name. She was dubious that he even had one because with his enormous size, prolific hair growth and prominent brow (Declan called it the Cro-Magnon crease), he seemed more like some nameless, giant entity than a person.

He pulled her into a bear hug so tight that her breath came in short gasps. "Hey," he nudged her brother "I found this kid running around your house. You met her before?"

Her brother just shrugged with a small smile. Sometimes she wondered how the two were best friends, being as different as they were.

"Shut up, Ness," Flannery said, punching him in the stomach as hard as she could. He didn't even seem to notice.

"Oh hush, you know that you're my favourite little nerd in the district," he said, holding his hand up for a high-five.

Flannery ignored him and addressed her brother. "Are you almost ready to go? The reaping is in," she made a show of checking her watch, "43 minutes."

Declan's eyebrow's shot up. "Am _I _ready? I've been ready. There question is, are you ready?"

She drew herself up to her full height, though it was admittedly not impressive. "As a matter of fact I am." The two burst out into giggles. She liked joking around with her brother. It was different than it was with Ness. "Where's mom?"

Declan's face immediately drooped at the mention of their mother. "Oh, you know, doing stuff in the kitchen."

Flannery knew that it meant her mother was up to something again, probably mixing some terribly dangerous chemicals or making explosives. She knew that sort of thing upset her brother, but she loved it. She went to knock on the door of the kitchen, eager to find out what her new project was.

Just as she reached for the doorknob, the door swung open and her mother spilled out of it, slamming it behind her. She was momentarily confused until she saw the white smoke pouring out from under the door. "Uh oh, what happened, mom?"

"Oh just a little lab accident, nothing to worry about," her mom said, simultaneous trying to pat down her hair and find her bag. "We really have to get going!"

Flannery sighed. Though her mother was brilliant but she had no concept of lab safety and their kitchen was a mess. Burn marks on the previously pristine white walls, deep gouges in the linoleum, chemical stains on the countertops, everything. Just then, the fire alarm began to blare, a loud cutting sound that made Flannery wince.

Her mother began to hustle them out the door, giving Flannery a quick shove, harder than she intended. She lost her balance and fell to the pavement, opening a large gash on her knee. Blood oozed out slowly and dripped down her leg, leaving a rusty red stain even after she wiped it clean. Though her mother apologized and comforted her, her knee throbbed throughout their entire walk to the pavilion.

By the time they arrived, the chairs were completely full and they had to stand near the exit with a handful of other late arrivals. Even with her glasses, Flannery couldn't make out the face of the announcer; she looked like a fleshy mass encased in a light pink suit. Neither could her brother, it seemed, since he was squinting and craning his neck.

When the names were about to be called she grasped the hands of her mom and brother on either side of her and squeezed. No matter who it was, it would be hard to watch them be chosen. The male tribute was a husky looking boy who reacted with startling calm, even pausing on the way to the stage to fist-bump a friend.

"And our young lady of the moment is Flannery Vang." The women clapped softly and Flannery's wounded knee gave out.


End file.
